


Lostbelt Found

by auralikh



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24358333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auralikh/pseuds/auralikh
Summary: They were set up for failure. Placed into the world with a master too familiar to trust in a broken world that was supposed to have been eliminated from memory, an empire of conquest that expands but only gets sparser as any sign of rebellion is snuffed before it’s even born.
Relationships: Judal | Judar/Ren Hakuryuu
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Lostbelt Found

One breath in and Hakuryuu’s heart feels as though it’s about to burst. Not because he’s struggling to stay alive, but rather because it feels like a thousand lifetimes of anger and resentment felt like they’ve been compressed, squeezed down to a moment, a single instance, and released all at once. It makes the corners of his eyes burn when they open, the world first pitch black then appearing slowly, muddled, then with clarity all at once.

The sky has never looked bluer. It’s infuriating.

Someone clears their throat. Hakuryuu looks at them with a scowl but it comes half undone.

“Aren’t you going to introduce who you are?”

“...Judar?”

“Huh? What are you asking me for, you should know who you are. Or did I fuck up the summoning…”

He remembers now. There’s no way he’d wake up to Judar after they’d both been ripped out of the easy continuity of linear time and space when they were supposed to be placed “together” in this collection when he doesn’t have any recollection of being in any particular space between death and now. This could just be a fever dream for all Hakuryuu knew, and it might as well be with how the person in front of him looked like a spitting image of his past magi. He grits his teeth, shaking those thoughts out. The lines have to be recited, after all, it’s the smallest formality he can give to this doppelganger.

“Servant. Avenger class. Be quick with it, if you are supposed to be my… Master,” having to call himself something so inferior and call this stranger “master” makes him want to tear his hair out. Even more so because fate apparently wants to play a cruel joke on him. Who’s in charge of this anyway? “You clearly need my assistance for something.”

“You’re not going to tell me your true name?” The mage (not magi) crosses his arms.

“I doubt you’ll ever need it,” Hakuryuu’s whole body feels as though it’s burning, tenfold so at the scars. They ache for him to move, to fight, to slaughter. Maybe he’d have an easier time if he was summoned as a Lancer. “Now, what’s the next move?”

“I mean. I should probably tell you my name first-”

“I don’t like to waste time.”

Not-Judar frowns. “Fine. We can start with the king then.”

* * *

The king in this altered form is nothing but a downgrade to the one Hakuryuu knew in flesh. The people here are stagnant too, suffocating in their homogenous presence. It’s not that they’re the same in appearance or mannerism or demeanor, but there’s something deeper he can’t put into words. Like at the snap of a finger, they would all smile the same way as their beloved king and unify for His cause, because that’s what he wants. Because he will never be satisfied with an ending. Hakuryuu must admit, though, it’s a perfect setup if the lostbelts are supposed to in a race of conquering, of empire. 

He just has no personal interest in these things, obligations be damned. Again, this would all just be easier if he was summoned as a Lancer.

“What’s wrong with you anyway?” Hakuryuu asks casually as though this is a natural topic of conversation to begin after slaughtering a small town that has apparently gone rogue. The townspeople had yet to even become aware of it themselves, the king just knew the instance an abnormality sparked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The mage, it doesn’t matter how many times he tells Hakuryuu his name, the avenger refuses to acknowledge or recall it, looks offended. So be it.

“No one can just. Summon an Avenger.” 

“Maybe other mages can’t, but they don’t have anywhere near as much mana as me.” He’s grinning so stupidly proud. Hakuryuu wants to chop the braid off the mage’s head and kick it into a bonfire. The locks look devilishly innocent like they’d never seen a pair of scissors in their lives.

“This has nothing to do with mana and everything to do with the method. Even if you were trying to get me specifically, somehow, you should have been only able to get me as a Lancer.” And then maybe he’d have a much better time tolerating this situation without the adrenaline constantly pumping in his veins. 

Judar. Not Judar shrugs. “I wanted a Berserker but I got you instead. I’m pretty ticked off too.” 

It’s easy to grab a frail mage by the throat. It’s harder to grab them there and not crush the pipes instantly.

A scoff escapes Hakuryuu’s throat. “You think me below a  _ Berserker? _ What kind of blind idiot mage are you, a third-rate court magician like you doesn’t deserve to summon anyone.” He’d let the skin under his fingers turn red then purple and blue yet as much as he despises the mimicry in front of him, feeling the blood under the skin desperately attempt to pass through just to stay alive… There’s just something about it.

Hakuryuu lets go and it takes a full minute or so for the mage to recover from his coughing and wheezing.

“...A servant is only as good as the mage that summoned him.”

It’s not worth giving a response to that. Because it’s true. An ugly, detestable truth.

* * *

Aside from that statement, there are a lot of things that Hakuryuu hates to admit are true. The most trivial of which is having to work under that king, or at least act as such, since apparently the mage is also not privy to the king’s agenda. More importantly, however, is the fact that he agrees with the mage, or the mage is agreeing with him, whichever the order. It would be one thing if the farce stopped at appearance. It’s the expressions, the mannerisms, the opinions he gets that line in sync so easily with Hakuryuu’s own that really make a fool out of him. The mage gets that glint in his eyes when they’re about to do something flamboyantly destructive. Whenever the mage meets someone, he immediately thinks of an insult for a name and keeps it there because it’s easier to remember than a real name. Except with Hakuryuu. Not knowing a true name, the mage defaults to “Avenger”, which is what a Master should be calling their Servant anyway.

A Master. That title still doesn’t feel right. A mage. That’s the most this person is and ever will be.

“Hey, Avenger.” 

“What is it.”

“Chaldea’s apparently coming to us next.”

“And? What do you want me to do.”

“Crush them before they can do shit, obviously.”

Hakuryuu stares at him.

“Well. Maybe we should come up with some sort of plan. What do you think?”

Hakuryuu isn’t thinking anything. He’s just disappointed at how the mage just stepped backward like that. All those similarities and then that little twist leaves a bitter aftertaste in his mouth. What does he think? He’s thinking he misses his real magi, he’s thinking he wished this wasn’t just some farce of a mage, he’s thinking he might rather go back to the time when he thought Judar died alone up in the cosmos.

“I have a plan.” He says instead. Judar was never good at plans, and something in Hakuryuu’s gut tells him that this mage won’t be much better, even though he’s aware that he could just be projecting his expectations of Judar. He hopes he’s right.

* * *

Do the details of the plan matter when you’re losing? At one moment he was giving the final blow to the king after that Master of Chaldea softened him up. For a second, the king looked like his old, human self again, back when he was still an exception but still the flesh and blood that everyone in Hakuryuu’s time remembered as Sinbad. It was much easier on the eyes than that arcane, godly abomination. That broken king is gone now, Hakuryuu’s is supposed to be king now.

That crown of thorns got ripped off almost immediately. He doesn’t even get the joy of cutting a few heads.

“I’m not… done yet.” Even if he ever gets to the point where he wants to give up, his body won’t let him, his body screams to try again even when his wooden legs have been smashed into splinters and his wooden arm dropped off like his real one all those years ago. It’s fine. He still has one arm and that’s all he needs to hold his weapon. “Don’t look like you’re done, let’s finish this off. I’ll beat you down with my fist.”

“No. We stop here.” That Master of Chaldea has a determined gaze but a soft expression that shows a tender tenacity. Her Servant stays still by her side.

Hakuryuu coughs out a clump of blood. It’s fine. “You’re just like Alibaba. No wonder you of yourselves as the heroes.” And yeah, maybe they are. Whether he looks like a hero or a villain was never a concern to him, because all that mattered, in the end, is that the winner takes the hero title. “If we’re really going to “stop”, why don’t you just end me here? I would kill you in a heartbeat if I had the chance.” Except he doesn’t have the chance. His rushing blood blurs his vision, making it impossible to aim for the two heroes as they run off to the tree stretching to the heavens.

They were set up for failure. Placed into the world with a master too familiar to trust in a broken world that was supposed to have been eliminated from memory, an empire of conquest that expands but only gets sparser as any sign of rebellion is snuffed before it’s even born. Hakuryuu’s only real strength is being able to go all out on a single target, but he can’t because everything spreads and fizzles when half of him wants to kill his master and the other half wants to somehow twist him into his magi to relive the old days once more.

Judar is yelling something. It’s hard to understand, but it keeps Hakuryuu breathing and his heart pumping. There’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Mana’s n-” 

“Shut up.” And Hakuryuu does. He’s not one to tell an ally to give up. The mana transfer isn’t enough to bring his limbs back together, just enough to make the rocks in the ravine in front of them visible again and clear his mind and remember that Judar’s voice might’ve had the same timbre but it’s not the same person. He brushes the hand away.

“That’s enough, Judar.” Hakuryuu curses himself for slipping up and his mind scrambles to fix it, only to realize he never remembered the mage’s name out of sheer spite. It was just the mage, and "Judar" was always the closest approximation.

“C’mon, Hakuryuu, there’s still some time before they get to the tree.” The mage pulls him but by his one arm and uses his own magecraft to reconfigure wooden legs, still but functional.

“...I never told you my name.” Hakuryuu’s staring in disbelief but the mage is only focusing on getting the Servant to move step by step, a slug’s pace compared to the other master-servant pair.

“Yeah, and?”


End file.
